


Always

by solarlotus



Category: The Last Kingdom (TV)
Genre: Finan adoring Uhtred, Fluff and Smutt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Public Declarations, Sexual Violence, Slavery, Uhtred as Osbert, Uhtred deserves to be adored, Worship, happy at last, loving couple, relationship, slave ship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 21:01:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28819656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solarlotus/pseuds/solarlotus
Summary: A series of scenes from Uhtred and Finan's relationship over the years. Non-linear.Chapter 1: Finan doesn't feel any shame in what he does for Uhtred. He was raised to be a lord, yet he serves another and couldn't be happier.
Relationships: Finan/Uhtred of Bebbanburg
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	1. Always

**Author's Note:**

> A quick late night snippet. Thanks to Kirsten for all the help and encouragement.

Finan was on his knees. He’d been raised to stand, be bowed to, a prince of the Uh'Domnall, a man who would be king. Now he knelt in service to another man, called another lord.

There was no shame, there could never be shame in serving Uhtred of Bebbanburg. It was more than an absence of shame, Finan was proud to serve his lord, proud to fight for him, to kneel to him, serve him in every way. Proud to pleasure him.

Some men saw shame in kneeling for another man's pleasure. Especially the priests Uhtred so detested. Finan felt no such burden. To give the man he loved pleasure was an honour, to give a man such as Uhtred pleasure was the greatest honour.

Uhtred should be a king, Finan often thought this, but he knew Uhtred would hate being king. He did not desire dominion over others, did not require the worship of a rabble. He wanted his home, his honour and a peaceful life. Not things that could be easily given in this world, so Uhtred fought for them. And he did receive the love of the people, for he was a noble warrior who inspired men and made women blush with unabashed lust.

There were times when people turned on him, always inspired by some churchman, dripping poison to paint his lord as a wicked man. It made Finan seethe with anger, want to kill and make widows. Uhtred deserved to be revered, respected, he deserved to be loved.

Finan was Uhtred’s closest friend, he ran his household and army, had his own men and commanded his own loyalty. It was still an honour to kneel to his lord, to acknowledge him as the great man he was and pledge his allegiance for all to see.

Uhtred was kind, he was forever collecting strays and waifs, he looked after his people, lands prospered under his care, fat little babies grew big and strong, crops burst through the soil and trade flourished. He wore his gold proudly, as a warlord should, but was never proliferate or careless with wealth. He was always fair in his judgement and tolerant of his fellow men.

Finan would rather die than be without his lord, the brave man who saved him from slavery and from himself. The man who had given him dignity and comfort when they’d had nothing but the rags on their backs.

“Why do you follow him always, without question?” one of the men had asked him once.

“He is Uhtred,” Finan had replied as if it were a stupid question.

Finan followed out of love alone, Uhtred would take no oath from him, though Finan would have gladly given one, gladly sworn to give his sword and life to Uhtred of Bebbanburg. But Uhtred hated being bound by oaths.

“I need to know you are here because you love me,” he’d whispered in Finan’s ear in the darkness, holding him tight.

“Always,” Finan promised, covering him with fevered kisses.

Finan’s love only grew stronger, there was a peace within him when they were together, they were two parts who slotted together perfectly, working in harmony, filling the aching pain and grief at life’s blows.

“Finan,” Uhtred gasped and Finan’s heart sung. To be on his knees had power, to make Uhtred gasp him name, make him tremble, beg and whimper. Finan pulled off his cock, grinning as Uhtred whined, his orgasm staved off a second time by Finan’s teasing.

“Please,” Uhtred begged. “I need you.”

Finan felt a warm wave of happiness envelope him.

Uhtred spilled over Finan’s lips and chin, leaving him a debauched sight, face stained with semen, spit and tears. Finan felt no shame, his lord, his great love was smiling, sinking into Finan’s lap, telling Finan he loved him as he took him in hand.

Surrender was sweet and intense, waves of pleasure uncoiling as Uhtred stroked, cresting then engulfing him as he soiled his lover’s hand.

“There is no one I love like you,” Uhtred whispered when they were clean and dry, holding hands by the hearth, heads bent together as usual, hiding their words in Uhtred’s busy hall.

“You know I live for your love,” Finan replied.

“Do you love me back?”

“Always,” Finan smiled.


	2. Happiness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finan is happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some spoilers for later books.

Can you ever really be happy? I didn’t used to think so, I always thought happiness was something the priests promised us in heaven and that earthly reality was at best tolerable. I know I seem happy, I smile and joke, I drink ale like a bear, I clap my men on the back and tell them tomorrow will be a better day.

But inside I am blackness, too much has been lost. I seethe with anger and hatred at my brother, what he took from me, what he did… to her. I bitterly berate myself for what I did, I curse the long years at the oar that left me scared and weathered, like an old mast on a ship. I hate my lord’s enemies, those bastards who kept us running round the country when we should be a in a warm hall. The kings and lords who use us for their purpose then dismiss my lord as a pagan, unworthy of thanks and reward, though he is a better man than any of them.

The priests tell us forgiveness is a virtue and revenge is sinful. Uhtred is right, anger keeps you alive. It kept me alive, kept him alive. Our sheer stubborn determination to live to spite the bastards who would see us crumble.

But the night we stand in the hall at Bebbanburg, feasting our new tenants I think I might be happy. We fought hard for this fortress, stolen from my lord when he was a child. We lost good men and shed much blood, with no help from the lying bastard kings of Mercia and Wessex for whom Uhtred has given so much. We took it, Uhtred’s men, loyal to our lord and never wavering in our belief.

Now we are the wolf pack of Bebbanburg, home at last and our lord is in his rightful place. He is draped in gold tonight, in his war glory, as am I. Gold arm rings, silver in his hair and gold chains around his neck. Uhtred looks every inch the gold giver, the lord of war that he is.

‘You will be with me, always,’ he had told me earlier, draping a gold crucifix around my neck and slipping another gold ring on my finger. ‘For other men gold buys loyalty, remember that for you it is a token of my love.’ We pressed our foreheads together and held on to the moment; the moment we were home, we were rich and Uhtred was my lord of all the land that surrounded us.

He stands tall at the head of the table, his gaze terrifies men into silence as he peruses his hall, his people. They are Saxon, Dane, Norse, even Scots and Irish mingle in Bebbanburg. Uhtred does not care where men are from, he does not care what gods they worship. He cares only for their loyalty and skill in battle, despite the disdain shown to him by the Saxon kings.

‘We are home!’ he tells the men. There are women too, the wives of our men and the women of Bebbanburg, the families have joined us and are making this great fortress on the rock a real home where cloth is spun, tunics embroidered, oak cakes are always on the heath stones and children run amok in the courtyard, chasing cats and hounds and collect shellfish at low tide.

‘I will not rule Bebbanburg as a tyrant like my uncle, we shall have peace and the rule of law and justice.’ There are cheers to Uhtred’s words. ‘I will ask of you hard work and loyalty and in return you shall share in all our glories, our riches and no man, woman or child will go hungry when the bellies of those of us at the top table are full!’

They cheer his words, but they won’t believe them, yet. In the next hard winter they will find the truth of it. That Uhtred will use his wealth to buy food for his people, that he will see even the slaves fed well, that he will give meat from his plate to feed the children and lead men to hunt for game on the harshest days.

They believe he will keep them safe though, when he promises that no man, whether Viking raider or Scottish devil will stir so much of a blade of grass they know he speaks true, for his is Uhtred of Bebbanburg, who is feared across the lands and seas and we are his wolf pack, the vicious and victorious warriors who no man dares cross.

‘And,’ he holds his hand up, the maid behind us quickly refills his cup, she is blushing as she serves him, for he is still as handsome as he ever was. ‘You will know my men are as true as I am. Finan commands my household troops.’

He pulls me to my feet, I hold a hand up in acknowledgement then stand beside him, stern with my hand on my sword hilt.

‘Finan will is my companion,’ he continues. ‘My most trusted and dearest friend, my most loyal and honourable warrior.’ Uhtred looks at me and I see his blue eyes flooded with adoration. My heart is beating fast and my stomach clenches, this public declaration is nothing our own men do not know, but to hear him say it makes my heart leap. ‘Finan’s word is my word, Finan’s word is final. There is no judgement he makes that I will hear appeal for. He is a fair and kind man.’ Uhtred is being generous here, I am not kind, I am a black hearted rogue and I do not deserve this man, yet I could never let him go.

‘Let us drink, to my most beloved warrior, Finan of Ireland!’

Men raise their cups and I bow my head to Uhtred, who is looking at nobody but me.

~

‘You didn’t have to say all that,’ I tell him as we’re fumbling with laces. He always ties his in a hurry and they’re the devil to get undone.

‘It is true,’ he says simply. We have both drunk ale and are flushed with pleasure from drink and our bodies pressed together on a goose feather mattress.

‘Uhtred,’ I sigh, finally freeing him.

‘You enjoyed it,’ he smiles.

‘Dearest companion?’

‘You are my dearest companion. I could have mentioned your excellent cock, but I am a jealous man,’ he laughs. I smile as he wraps a hand round my hardness, I am happy, there is no demon in my soul, we are avenged, both of us. We are home, we are safe, there is peace for the time and we have full bellies and a goose feather mattress, carted here from Lundene for our pleasures.

‘What?’ he asks, seeing my grin.

‘I am happy,’ I tell him.

‘As am I.’ He kisses me then, deep and rich, pulls me atop him. ‘You want to get happier?’ he asks, his face in a wicked boyish smile.

‘Always,’ I answer.


	3. From the Brink of Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uhtred and Finan find solace in each other on board the slave ship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The non-con tag is for this chapter, but it's not explicit. Trigger warning though.

His cries have stopped now, I know it is over. I am sick to my stomach and dare open my eyes, he is crawling to me, his face streaked with tears as he clutches his trousers around his waist. I say nothing but hold out my arms and he crawls into them, his body sagging against my own, hiding his face from the world.

They did the same to me, humiliated me, used me, violated me. It is nothing but a show of power, they can take everything from us, every piece of our bodies and use us for their whims. There is no desire, not like the hunger they display when they see a woman, the feral looks of want that take them. This is different, they mock us, jeer at us, make us less than men.

I hold Osbert as tight as I can, he is bloodied from fighting them off, his face and back, they whipped him in the end, his back is raw.

‘It is over,’ I tell him. He says nothing, just a strangled sob into my chest. ‘I didn’t watch,’ I say. It is true, they tried to make me, I got a clout for turning my head, in the end I looked at the wood of the floor, they can make me watch, but they cannot make me see.

‘I am shamed,’ he whimpers in my arms.

‘They did the same to me, to break me. I am still a warrior, you are still a warrior and one day we’ll cut these bastards from cock to throat and send them to hell.

Osbert shudders but says nothing. ‘Listen, you, Saxon bastard,’ I tell him forcefully. ‘You are a warrior, you are a bringer of death. We will kill them one day. You don’t give up, I forbid you to give up!’

He is all I have, the brave Saxon who speaks like a Dane, the man who shields his friends from the slavers’ whips and gives me bread before taking his. Osbert is a noble and brave and I have come to love him, he is a man to follow, a great man.

‘Finan,’ he whispers. I could cry for him, they have taken everything from him. I will kill them for this.

~

They next few days are hard, I tend Osbert’s wounds as best I can, we row by day, sleep under thin blankets beneath the steering platform at night. We never leave each other’s side, he sleeps in my arms. We have always huddled together for warmth, but now he wants the safety of our bodies entwined. I will give him whatever I can.

Eventually, the cuts from the whip stop bleeding and his face becomes hardened again. They think they have broken us; we say little these days. But they know nothing, we do not need words anymore. We press our hands together at night as Osbert huddles into my chest, he strokes my fingers in gentle thanks and I press my cracked lips to his forehead.

I don’t remember how long I was ill for that winter; I remember feeling feverish and achy one day and then there is a period of blackness. I lay in Osbert’s arms and shivered, freezing one moment, burning hot the next.

The shouts and cries of the ship mingled with the spray from the sea, a haze of pain and misery. I must’ve rowed, Osbert must have made me row, or I would have been thrown overboard like a rotten carcass. He put gruel in my mouth, shoving his fingers between my lips, begging, praying, sometimes screaming at me to live. I would have died without him.

When the fever stopped Osbert had new cuts from the whip, he would not tell me what happened, but I knew. Our captors would have whipped him for helping me, for shielding me like he shielded poor Halig. I would take those cuts for him, I would take his pain, he is the least deserving of his fate. I dreamt of the ways I would kill the slavers, the torments I would inflict, the torments we would dish out to those who had hurt and humiliated us. I knew Osbert dreamed of these things too, and of his woman, the Dane he loved. I had stopped dreaming of my woman, she was lost to me, all I could see was her mutilated body on the floor, I had nothing but the brave Saxon to live for. So, we sat on our benches, rowing, ever rowing, eyes hard on our captors. We will kill them one day, if we get a sword in our hands we will kill them, together.

~

I howled like a beast when I was released, and I killed the bastard Sverri. A sword through his throat, I only regret not having the strength to make a slower, more painful job of it. Osbert was on his knees and looked at me like I had delivered him, he sobbed in his brother’s arms and I found out he is called Uhtred.

Ragnar released the slaves and Uhtred grabbed my hand, pulling me to a horse and swinging himself up next to me. ‘Finan is with me,’ he informed his brother and the nun.

I didn’t leave him, not when he was tended to by his friends, when he grew back into a lord before my eyes. His sword was a thing of beauty, I knelt before him as he held it and clasped my hands around the hilt. I would be with him always.

‘I will swear to you, lord,’ I said, desperate to cleave myself to him forever.

‘No, not you, I will not take an oath from you,’ he replied, raising me to my feet. Panic gripped me, I could not have born being sent away. ‘You will stay because we are bound.’ He pressed his forehead against mine. ‘I have given to many oaths I have resented, I could not bear that from you.’

‘Lord,’ I told him. ‘I will stay with you until my dying breath, I’ll follow you everywhere.’

‘And I will love you and give you glory and wealth. Men will call you lord again.’

‘Again?’

He laughed. ‘You are a lord, Finan. Shush, don’t tell me yet, when you are ready. But I see what you are.’

‘That is what I fear.’

‘You are a warrior, a leader of men. You are the most dear to me…’

I do not know how our lips met, but it felt like we’d been doing it forever. We held each other for a long time after that. We knew we’d do it again, do more and often. But for now it was enough to hold each other, to be safe, to be free and to feel his warm body next to mine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> According to contemporary sources Vikings used sexual violence against men and women.


End file.
